Tailgate Theology

(Intro) (The sound of a truck door slamming, gravel crunching under boots, and a single acoustic guitar strumming a dusty G-major) (Verse 1) Jackson’s got the keys to his old man’s Silverado The one with the dent in the fender from three years back We’re parked where the pavement ends and the corn starts leaning Just a bunch of shadows moving in the bed of that truck. Caleb’s already got the ice chest sweating The cheap stuff, the kind that tastes like copper and a Friday night But man, when that first tab cracks— It’s the loudest thing in the county. (Chorus) And we’re just kids until we aren't, I guess Trading secrets over silver cans and summer sweat Watching the girls jump the fence in their cut-off jeans Looking like everything we ever wanted, or ever need. Yeah, the world’s out there somewhere, getting loud and mean But right here, we’re the kings of a kingdom That smells like woodsmoke and gasoline. (Verse 2) Maya’s laughing at something I didn't quite hear She’s got her hair tied up with a yellow rubber band And the way the moonlight catches the dust in the air Makes it feel like we’re standing inside a photograph. She handed me a beer and her hand stayed a second too long Or maybe I just imagined it because I wanted to. We’re talking about leaving, about the city, about the coast But nobody’s moving. Nobody wants to be the first one to ghost. (Chorus) 'Cause we’re just kids until we aren't, I guess Trading secrets over silver cans and summer sweat Watching the girls jump the fence in their cut-off jeans Looking like everything we ever wanted, or ever need. Yeah, the world’s out there somewhere, getting loud and mean But right here, we’re the kings of a kingdom That smells like woodsmoke and gasoline. (Bridge) Tomorrow my dad’s gonna ask why I’m moving slow Tomorrow Jackson’s gotta go work the line at the plant And this truck will just be a truck again Not a church, not a throne, not a place where we can. But right now? Right now, the radio’s playing that one song And Sarah’s dancing on the tailgate like nothing’s ever gone wrong. (Guitar Solo) (Drunken, melodic, sliding notes that feel like a long drive home) (Chorus) Yeah, we’re just kids until we aren't, I guess Trading secrets over silver cans and summer sweat Watching the girls jump the fence in their cut-off jeans Looking like everything we ever wanted, or ever need. The world’s out there somewhere, getting loud and mean But right here... yeah, right here... We’re the kings of a kingdom That smells like woodsmoke and gasoline. (Outro) Keep the fire going a little longer. Don't check the clock. Pass me another one, I think I’m starting to see it. The best days don't feel like much when you’re in 'em. They just feel like... Gravel. And her laughing. And the heat. (Fade out on the sound of a distant dog barking and a quiet hum of the radio)